She nervously ran her fingers around the lip of her coffee mug, watching the door. Her son, who she had given up for adoption 20 years ago, had agreed to meet. Her heart was in her throat. What if he was disappointed? It was odd...she'd never much cared what people thought of her, but when it's your own flesh and blood...
The door of the Indie coffee shop opened. 2 people walked in. Couldn't be her son. After all these years would she even be able to recognize him? He'd sent a picture. She pulled he picture he sent her up on her phone. Ice blue eyes, like her, but dark brown hair, like his dad. Back to the coffee, and people-watching. Indie coffee shops are the best for such activities.
Several minutes later, the door opened again. The sun had dipped through the front windows so all she was a silhouette. A man. He moved towards her. A MAN? Of course her son was a man. A far cry from the infant she'd given up. Her breath caught as he stood across from her.
"Hi, mom!"
An avalanche of emotion, 20 years in the making. She tried to hide it as she stood and moved around the table to hug him.
"What's your poison," she asked.
"What do you recommend," was his reply.
"I do the red-eye, but most people aren't into that level of caffeine abuse."
"Well if a little old lady can handle it, I'm sure a strapping young lad will be fine," he said.
She looked him up and down. Strapping he was. "Red-eye it is," she replied, and placed his order at the counter.
They were quiet while the drink was assembled, sizing one another up. She noticed that he had her lips, her smile. But with a hint of mischievousness she hadn't had in years. She watched his eyes travel up her curvy figure to her own eyes, which matched his, and then to her cascading ginger curls. "Aren't you lucky you didn't end up a ginger like me," she retorted. His eyes on her body had burned, like he was trying to devour her.
"I am. Gingers are crazy," he replied. His coffee arrived. They moved to their table. He grimaced as he took the first sip. "Amateur," she declared.
They talked for 3 hours, drinking way too much coffee, reveling in their similarities, shocked by how easy it was to connect to one another on levels they hadn't anticipated.
"You don't look like I thought you would...," he said, tentatively.
"How did you think I'd look," she questioned.
"Old, I guess," was his reply.
"Sorry your mom isn't old," she teased. "Hey...there's a game store near here, and I think we've sacrificed enough coffee to the Gods. I need to buy a Switch. Do you want to come with?"
He looked shocked for a moment, then expressed enthusiasm. "You're a gamer, too? UH, YEAH."
"Splendid," she declared off-handedly, and they headed to the store.
They settled into a pattern of teasing as she picked out the features and games she wanted, and they waited for the salesman to come back. There was affection and odd familiarity in the ribbing. When the salesman took too long, he shoved her, jokingly, calling her a nerd.
"I'm just trying to keep up with these kids today," she declared in a croaking, old voice. He laughed. He had her laugh, too. It hit her right at her core. Best to enjoy it and examine it later. Just watching how much he was like her, how much they had in common, how many jokes they both knew the punchlines to...she'd never encountered such a thing. It was like he could read her mind.
